ANAHEIM, Calif. — It was not a pretty sight. Staggering through the exit turnstiles of California Adventure, I was stricken with the sort of randomly anxious thoughts I have not experienced since my hardest drinking days.

If cotton candy is green and slightly tangy, does that make it a fruit? Were my feet and hands swollen because I had been upright for so long, or was I actually turning into a cartoon character? The girl walking beside me claimed to be my daughter, but that seemed unlikely; to have a teenage daughter, surely I would be too old to have just spent 20 hours and change at Disneyland?

As with so many seasonal turnings, it isn’t summer until the Disney Resort says so. And on the Friday before Memorial Day it did just that, hosting a big Rock Your Disney Side event in which Disneyland and California Adventure were both open from 6 a.m. to 6 a.m.

Oh, there were other “highlights:” music, character meet-and-greets, ongoing presentations of Frozen and assorted Marvel films. But the big draw: What would 24 hours of Disney look like?

Gentle Reader, I will never know. At 1:30 a.m., when the wait time for any ride worth going on passed the two-hour mark, I clocked out.

Lessons learned

Still, lessons were learned, especially this: While Disney clearly has to figure out how to deal with its own popularity, making the 24-hour day a regular thing is not the answer.

Oh, there were people who survived all 24 hours.

They were the die-hards, the Mouskephiles, the long-term annual pass-holders armed with multiple apps and cellphone chargers, the frequent visitors who have actually seen the famous family of cats that has lived in Disneyland since the beginning, fans who can point out all the hidden Mickeys without the aid of the book.

I thought I loved Disneyland; I learned I don’t even know what love is. Love is knowing where all the electrical outlets lie in both parks.

We arrived just after 5 a.m., my 7-year-old daughter and I, feeling proud of our ability to meet any challenge. The plaza between the two parks looked like St. Peter’s Square on Christmas Eve. If Catholics were required to wear Maleficent horns.

Maleficent was about to open, and if the many horns and costumes were any indication, anticipation was high. At 5:30 a.m., however, star Angelina Jolie was nowhere in sight; instead Disney provided Josh Gad, the voice of Frozen’s Olaf and clearly the gamest new member of the Disney team, to count down the final seconds before opening.

There were also fireworks, because of course there would be fireworks. Even at 6 a.m.

Food fights

And so it began, a blur of lines and rides and arguments about food. No matter how numerous, assorted or usually forbidden the snacks in your backpack, your children will inevitably want a churro. Or chicken nuggets.

By the time my husband arrived at 9 p.m. with my older daughter and fresh snacks, I had been reduced to conceding that popcorn was, technically, a vegetable.

Twenty hours in Disney also gives one a new perspective on the rides. Where once I sought speed and beauty, now I just want to rest, preferably in the dark. Which means the best rides are now the ones with the highest ratio of sitting down to standing up. The Little Mermaid ride wins, but high marks also go to Grizzly River Run (though you will get wet), Mickey’s Fun Wheel and the Disneyland Railroad.

Strangely, the Pirates of the Caribbean ride and the Haunted Mansion also rank high; if the lines are long, the ride is sure to stop at least once or twice while you’re on it, giving you time to close your eyes, collect your thoughts and quietly mainline the chocolate-covered espresso beans you keep hidden from the kids.

Several previous 24-hour event survivors recommended the film events, but even the 7-year-old could not bear another viewing of Frozen. Until she called it quits at 11:30, when her father led her back to the hotel, she found respite watching various parades and chilling out in the Disney Animation building, talking to the turtles, taking a sketch class at the Animation Academy and just, yes, lying down on the main floor watching film clips.

It does look a bit like an airport during a flight-delaying blizzard, but it’s air-conditioned, there are electrical outlets and it’s the only place in both parks where you can lie down and not attract the attention of a Disney medic.

Which is strange, considering that one of the most famous hypersomniacs in literary history is part of the Disney canon. How have the good folks at Disney not capitalized on this?

Perhaps they could take a step back from all those Maleficent horns and concentrate on a solution to two problems: a real Sleeping Beauty experience.

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